


the sun devouring the stars

by Anonymous



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Blood and Violence, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Linear Narrative, Prince Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Royal Tutor Mark Lee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 09:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30137781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Mark was the one who taught Donghyuck ways of tyranny.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52
Collections: Anonymous





	the sun devouring the stars

###  **The Starting Point**

Mark was the one who taught Donghyuck ways of tyranny.

 _This Empire is already so rotten and corrupted, Donghyuck-ah_ , Mark whispered in his ears, voice as gentle as the blow of the wind and smile as soft as it is sharp. The way his fingers combed through Donghyuck's hair felt like familiarity, and the sweet lullaby he hummed as he let Donghyuck lay his head on Mark's lap brought out the buried sense of nostalgia from deep beneath the darkened layers covering his heart. Mark had cared for him the way his dad did long before his disappearance, and yet his eyes held a thunderstorm of gripping sorrow, similar to the look in the Empress' eyes whenever she stared at him, at those last moments before her unfortunate death.

 _The Emperor cares for none, lest they have purposes for his plans_ , he added, still with the far-away look on his face, _no one is safe as they're on the palm of his hands right now. But you are one of his sons. When you take over the throne, Donghyuck-ah, we all will be able to live in peace._

Donghyuck was hesitant at first. Doubt and reluctance were the ones that filled his mind. He didn't know why Mark would want Donghyuck—the Lee Donghyuck, third prince of the Hae Empire, with a temper running so hot and anger burning so bright in his veins. He's not Taeyong, the crown prince, nor he is Jeno, his better twin. He's not Jisung either, not the son who was adored and favored among the others. He's just the third prince, the one with bad reputation in the social circle, the one the Emperor despised so much.

 _No one is safe, not even me,_ Mark whispered, and Donghyuck's heart fell to the deep pit of fear.

 _But you are the prince's tutor, hyung_ , he said, although he knew Mark's status—not as the royal tutor, but as _his_ private tutor—would only bring misfortune to him. He still tried to justify something, _anything_ , whatever it was that needed to be justified, even if more than half of the effort was for Donghyuck's own sake only. _Who would dare to harm you, especially in the palace? They must have cared none for their life if they dared to approach you with bad intentions._

 _A lot, Donghyuck-ah_ , Mark answered, his tone so sure and firm, although contrary to his voice, Mark's smile was weak and sad and vulnerable. Donghyuck didn't like that smile—he preferred ones that made Mark's eyes shone like the galaxy inhabited them. He preferred a curved, crescent-eyed smile when Mark was going to laugh or a gentle, unassuming smile Mark sent to him before Donghyuck presented a wreath of flower crown to him. 

Donghyuck had never thought of sitting on the seat of the throne. He had a hunch about how the Emperor would choose Taeyong, Jeno, maybe even Jisung, over him. But Mark had asked him personally to get his right over the throne and the crown, and Mark had never asked for anything other than that. Donghyuck loved, _loves_ Mark an infinity amount, maybe even more than how he had loved the late Empress. Sacrifices were meant to be made for the sake of the people he loved, and Mark was the one he loved the most, above all the people he had ever known. 

If Donghyuck sitting on the red velvety throne with the golden crown perched atop his head was what made Mark happy, then Donghyuck was willing to fight teeth and nails for the position. 

Even if that meant killing his father, the Emperor, and rose to the position as the bloody tyrant who's feared by all.

###  **The Wilted Lily in the Chrysanthemum Garden**

When the Empress was on her deathbed, Donghyuck was the only one who came to visit her.

Understandably so, because after getting caught and found guilty due to infidelity, the Empress was convicted to exclusion and was sent to the Blue Palace. Donghyuck had to get down to his knees and _beg_ the Emperor to be let inside the Palace, and although the act of begging itself was a shameful deed that shouldn't have been done by a prince, Donghyuck _had to_. He wouldn't let his own mother rot inside a cold, lonely palace all by herself.

It's not as if the other princes were not the Empress' sons. Taeyong grew detached from the royalty members since he was seventeen, after years of failed brainwashing done by the Emperor in order to mold him into the perfect crown-bearer. Jeno—Donghyuck's older twin by ten minutes—was sent by the Emperor to the very west border of the territory, with no apparent reason. And Jisung, the youngest prince, loved by the Emperor although he himself was terrified of the Emperor, was thrown into studies and social parties by the order of the Emperor.

Donghyuck had to attend those studies and parties as well, but with the rumors spreading around, it's hard to find a tutor who was willing to teach him mannerism and overall knowledge.

Donghyuck took care of the Empress, _his mother_ , with bloody sweats and tears. Each day, due to the unknown disease suffered by the Empress, Donghyuck had to reintroduce himself as her son. It's both draining and killing him, turning him into someone borderline pathetic and sorrowful.

Donghyuck hated the feeling of being pathetic.

But still, when one day the Empress didn't wake up, Donghyuck _panicked_. It's like the rug under his feet was suddenly yanked, and he was free-falling towards the bottomless pit of uncertainty and loneliness. All the efforts to wake her up bore no fruit, and the physician announced the death of the Empire's Mother right that evening.

Lilies had always been the Empress' favorite type of flower. It symbolizes rebirth and the starting-over point of life. The Empress might never show it, but Donghyuck knew how much she regretted ever being an Empress of a hateful Empire.

The lilies on the Empress' bedside wilted in the last week of summer, and the Empress held on until she couldn't—until she dried up and slowly wilted as well.

A week into fall, the Empress wilted and turned to ashes, buried in the middle of pale chrysanthemums field.

She left Donghyuck with a note; the final words of a dying mother. On a simple parchment, Donghyuck's name was written elegantly with an inked quill pen. Following, the Empress' wishes for him were shaped into words full of regret and relief. There were no other parchments for his siblings, Donghyuck noticed.

Donghyuck left a sprig of fresh, newly-picked white lily on the cold stone of his mother's tomb. The dew from the morning mist wetted the grayish stone, some dripping from the tree leaves and falling on Donghyuck's face.

The Empress withered in fall, and Donghyuck learned to pick up the pieces and ashes needed to shape a remembrance of his mother.

###  **Ways for a Human to Tame a Dragon**

Mark Lee was an odd fellow. He brought the burning sun to rise in the dark winter and planted the seed of chilling snow early into the summer. He was patient in a way that's so aggravating, and yet he was standing firm on his belief, taking any offending insults lightly as if nothing could stop him from not caring.

He was a walking paradox, every contrast blending together in a symphony of colors and lights. Random at best, haphazard at worst. Despite that, he valued peace beyond anything. If Donghyuck were to compare him, he would put Mark side by side with a single ray of light piercing through the thick bundles of gray clouds in the middle of a thunderstorm.

There was Mark. And then there was Donghyuck.

Donghyuck lived up to his reputation. After the death of the Empress, his temper turned for the worse; the sorrow and guilt ate him up like woods devoured by termites. He was wary, walls stacked up so high it separated him from the light. Built so layered and thick it prevented air from seeping in. It was dark and scary and suffocating. Donghyuck didn't want to stay locked inside the walls, but he was safer the way he was.

Mark came, shook the ground like a massive earthquake, and weakened the walls. Destroying the walls surrounding Donghyuck should've harmed him, but Mark picked up each brick, peeling layer by layer and revealing the deepest and darkest part. Exposing Donghyuck bare and vulnerable, raw flesh beneath thin skin and red pulsing heart beneath the protection of white ribcage.

Like a dragon, Donghyuck is weak beneath those unbreakable scales of anger. Swords and arrows never pierced through, but a mere human’s fingers were able to pick those scales apart. Mark was gentle at untangling the messy knots of Donghyuck's nerve, molding him better than the hits of rattan sticks on his calves or the sleepless nights of punishments inside the reading room, surrounded by books and rules.

He cared for the bleeding wounds beneath the scales with feather-light strokes and an unassuming smile, stinging salves intending to heal and tightly-tied bandages aimed to protect. Mark nurtured with delicate touches and mercy under his palms; with rewards behind the elegant flow of his sleeves’ fabric and an appreciative smile meant only for Donghyuck to see.

Donghyuck saw the figure of his dad in Mark’s affection, the stern nature of his mother in Mark’s care, and the joy of having someone loyal beside him even after all the ugly sides he had shown.

He had seen how Mark killed someone—effortless and graceful, easy swing of his small knife cutting against the point of pulse on the neck. Barehanded, Mark moved like a cheetah in the wilderness, flexibility on agility on tactfulness. He also cleaned up nice, the spray of blood disappeared with a wave of his hands and the heavy corpse burning bright and blue with a press of fingers. He was more dangerous than he seemed to, but he hid it well under the cover of innocent smiles and bright eyes.

Donghyuck was not scared of what he saw and what he knew. It only served to intrigue him further. Humans tamed dragons better than most, but devils befriended dragons as if they’re long-lost brothers. Mark might seem human to most, but to Donghyuck, he was the equivalent of a devil disguised as a dragon tamer. He bled and hurt, he could be brought to the door of life and death by a vital press of blade on his heart, but the devil lived in him just as how the angel blessed him generously.

Mark was a paradox, a devil in disguise, an angel front with a devil interior. And Donghyuck—broken, messed up, raw—was the creature he tamed and befriended.

###  **The Sides and Faces**

_When I was thirteen, my mother packed my clothes, food, and some other necessities inside my bag_ , Mark reminisced. They were sitting under the shade of a tall willow tree, surrounded by thick bushes and soft grasses. Donghyuck had propped his back on the sturdy trunk of the tree, eyes looking up above to watch the sky turned lilac. He listened, ears always ready to catch even the barest hint of candor Mark had shown.

_She also slipped a blue jewel stone inside my pocket, before she dragged me to the carriage and commanded the coachman to go to the west manor. At that time, I knew nothing about my mother's actions. All I thought was that I was being abandoned, cold and alone with only one maid and one butler._

Then there was silence, stretching long and wide. It drove Donghyuck jittery in curiosity, but he knew better than to open his mouth and failed all his attempts to know about Mark better. After some moments of choice, he leaned his body further to Mark's side, closing his eyes.

 _The Dukedom was destroyed and abolished minutes after my mother got me away_ , Mark whispered in a hoarse voice, and Donghyuck's eyes snapped open. And as if Mark had known of the questions in Donghyuck's head, his lips curled into a bitter smile.

 _I was the only son of the only Duke in this Empire_ , he admitted, _but the Dukedom was already ruined, and the names of my family were erased from history, so now I am a no one_.

 _I am sorry_ , Donghyuck apologized—on the Emperor's behalf, since he was the prince and he had promised Mark that he would be the one who sat on the throne. Taking a seat on the throne meant being responsible for these kinds of matters.

 _Everything that has passed, shall be passed_ , was Mark's answer, but Donghyuck felt the guilt that lodged in his stomach persisted. Mark hadn't said the words of forgiveness yet, and it made a lump formed on the base of his throat.

 _You will get your title back_ , Donghyuck promised, sincerity dripped from his words like honey from his lips. _Once I take over the crown, I will give you the best life you have never imagined you would get_.

The promise was rejected by Mark. He said, _I don't need that, Donghyuck-ah, I just need you to be the Emperor and destroy the Empire to build a newer and better Empire_.

Knowing Mark for several years, Donghyuck knew there was no use in fighting a losing war. Especially if it was with Mark Lee.

So he took the promise and kept it in his own heart, unspoken vow carved in his head and under his tongue, lips sealed shut but eyes speaking honesty. Mark didn't want a promise; promises were prone to get broken and forgotten, sometimes even told with empty eyes and fake smiles.

Then, Donghyuck would be the first to make an oath, real and kept for fulfillment in the future.

Mark was full of deceit and white-covered lies. He smiled his way through anger and giggled his way out of the palace guard's suspicions. Thorny seeds powdered white in glittery innocence, but also honey sweetness wrapped in sticky venom. Two faces in one body like two sides of a coin. He's a perfect liar, and yet he was ready to open his ribs and expose his heart for Donghyuck to pick apart.

Maybe it was the satisfaction of being _the only one_ that drove him crazy for Mark. Probably the rare vulnerabilities which were only shown to Donghyuck; or perhaps it was also the small, barely noticeable actions observed by Donghyuck's eyes that revealed the true side of Mark.

Observations made by him let him know of when Mark was being honest, or when he was deceiving his way out by batting his eyelashes and smiling prettily. And it was a huge sense of accomplishment, for Donghyuck to understand Mark more than the most.

###  **Obsessions are the Peak of One's Success**

When Mark was first introduced to Donghyuck, he demanded one thing to be fulfilled as the requirement of success.

 _I hope you can get obsessed with me_ , Mark laughed, serious facade melting into a more comfortable expression. _What if I made that as the requirement for you to be labeled as my one and only successful student?_

 _It won't be hard_ , Donghyuck answered fast, half-honest and half-joking. But on his face, Mark must have only seen the joke. He shook his head in amusement, eyes shining in mirth.

And yet, five years after, here he is—surrounded in fire and ruins, body bloody and battered but _alive_ , thrumming with forces and energy.

With Mark nowhere in his sight.

 _Obsessions are the catalyst of your success_ , Mark had taught him, whispered in his ears at night before he slept, or moaned out to him under the sheet. With their bodies tangled together and their breaths mingled as one, Donghyuck learned of his last lesson. The sounds Mark made were like the strum of heavenly melodies, the heat spreading under his skin and the arousal burning in his veins were the instruments, and Donghyuck was the composer of the masterpiece.

That night ran fast and cold, but Donghyuck's body moving against Mark was deliberate and hot. Mark's skin was burning and soft to touch, red and purple bloomed easily under the harsh presses of Donghyuck's fingers and the merciless bites of Donghyuck's teeth.

Mark disappeared just several minutes before Donghyuck opened his eyes, the creased sheet where he had laid still warm, wisps of scent from Mark's body still lingered on the fabrics and in the air.

Like he was swallowed by the earth, Mark disappeared with no traces.

It sends a surge of anger through his veins, muscle taut and tense as he grips the handle of his sword. The air crackles and the wind whips as fury turns his sight red and maroon. It's as if his soul is separated from his body—he watches how his hands swing and slash, stares at the way bodies crumple down to the floor in bloody heaps. He feels nothing for those whose blood has stained his hands. Reasons are overpowered by temperament, and obedience is crushed by rage and resentment.

 _Mark was wrong_ , Donghyuck thinks as he kills another one and spills another blood, _obsessions are not the catalyst; obsessions are his peak of success_. 

His trance-like sense is shattered by the sound of a plea. Under his feet, right beneath the sole of his shoes, is the Emperor who ruled unjustly. Suddenly the red stains that glimmer on his sword seem very appealing.

 _You destroy his life_ , Donghyuck hisses, dark tone seeping in his gritted voice, _and for that, you shall suffocate and be destroyed slowly, in the most painful way_.

When he swings his sword, the blood paints the white marble floor in rivulets of red. It reminds him of the red bitten lips and red bitten marks, stark against Mark's favorite nightgown. The thought sends a shiver of anticipation.

He reaches for the golden crown stained crimson, and sits on the throne in maroon. The crown is heavy on his head, but he tips his chin up high—just as how Mark had taught him so. His eyes flashed cold and sharp, following the flow of blood pooling on the floor.

The Empire was corrupted and rotten, but under Donghyuck's ruling, under the strong grip of iron and the sharp-edged weapons, Donghyuck can build an Empire where Mark can live peacefully.


End file.
